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listen, my children, and you shall hear...

...of the midnight (or 4pm-ish) ride of paige's first and only experience getting a professional massage.  (or, 'why we don't incorporate santa into our christmas traditions.')

once upon a time, a beautiful maiden named paige van voorst married a handsome prince-slash-lumberjack. one year, this doting husband decided to get his touch-loving princess-wife a professional massage as a gift for valentine's day or her birthday or something.  so he searched the yellow pages and made phone calls, to get her the best massage in all the land.  when his plans were all in order, he gleefully told her the news, or rather had his messenger boy sound a bugle and then read the grand news from a fancy scroll with gold handles.

but neither the prince-husband nor the messenger boy had any inkling that the appointment had been made with no ordinary massage therapist.  oh, no.  and upon arriving at this massage therapist's quaint cottage (read: downtown office above a chiropractic clinic) the beautiful maiden started to get a sinking feeling that this would be no ordinary massage.

yes, rather than being a petite, dark-haired fairy with a magical wand of healing and relaxation as paige had envisioned, the massage therapist was instead a very old, very large mortal woman with three teeth and a crazy eye.

the entryway of the woman's cottage was decorated with every angelic image ever crafted: floor-to-ceiling wallpaper made of images of angels printed on an ink-jet printer and torn out of magazines, mod-podged to the wall.  shelves and tables and cabinets cluttered with tiny and not-so-tiny angel figurines.  a computer screen saver of an angel flying to and fro.  paige quickly counted them all and determined that there were thousands of legions of angels and was no longer surprised that john seemed so freaked out when he was writing revelation.

though paige was fairly confident that she was about to become the subject of some bizarre experimentation and/or the main course for dinner, she decided the promise of a massage was worth staying for, so she asked for a tour of the rest of the cottage.  she was not surprised to find that every room in the place had been decorated similarly, although each room had its own theme: mickey mouse in one massage room, santa in the other.  in the santa room they stayed, and the old woman directed the maiden to undress and cover with a sheet under the watchful and protective gaze of 150,000 santa eyes.

when the woman returned, she put on the soothing sounds of 'celtic relaxation' and lit some incense to set a relaxing mood, although paige voluntarily chose to remain a tiny bit tense (read: as alert as a jungle gazelle) in case she had to exercise some kind of 'fight or flight' response.  and involutarily chose to remain a little bit tense because the woman spent the next 70 minutes talking incessantly about new mexico and about how she was able to knead even brawny man muscle into ground beef, and also she remained tense because she realized too late that she hadn't shaved her legs which is a good thing to do before a massage.

but do not worry, friends.  this story ends happily ever after.  paige did live to see the light of day again, though it did aggravate the migraine she developed from not drinking enough water after the massage.  she did not end up an ingredient in some kind of stew, nor is she over 70% sure that those santa eyes sucked some of the years off the end of her life.  and even if they did, she'll probably die only three or four years sooner than she would have otherwise because, let's face it, her diet's not all that great....blah, blah, blah, happily ever after, the end.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, CHILDREN!

3 comments :

Alyssa Neiers said...

This story made me laugh. I don't think I could have relaxed either while surrounded by Santa. And usually massagers are quiet so you can relax instead of blabbing your ear off the entire time.

Jessica said...

FYI - if you ever want an AMAZING massage in the Ames area, you have two options: Andrea Bastin, at Ames Racquet & Fitness South, or Janet Klemme, at Ames Racquet & Fitness West. You do not have to be a member to get a massage.
They're both great. They will both find your trigger spot and work on them.
They're also both Christians and won't have excessive or WEIRD decorations to make you tenser. :)
You can even buy couples' massages, too...and get chocolate with it. AND they give you giant bottles of water when you're done.

Allison said...

I will also second going to Janet Klemme, she is a good friend of mine and so awesome!

I will share that the one time I got a professional massage was from a homosexual lady who lived with her partner and did massages out of her home. It was a gift from my mom so I felt obligated to go, but I was definitely uncomfortable with the whole situation!